


Father's Bow

by KateWrites



Series: In Another Life [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateWrites/pseuds/KateWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, things were different. In another life Sigrid, Daughter of Bard, would not let anything harm her family. Not even a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Bow

**Author's Note:**

> The first work I plan on posting in an AU that I've been working on! Also there needs to be more love for Sigrid.

Sigrid, daughter of Bard, would not be bullied into submission, nor would she be called foolish. Sigrid prided herself on being the very definition of mature, a female version of her father in every way. From her sober expression to bleak outlook, she knew that she would never falter in the face of crisis.

So when her home was invaded by a company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit, she did not blink. Instead she offered them clothes, blankets, and warm food. She dutifully made sure that each was given a tankard full of hot cider, and went to work convincing the young dark haired one that she could help him.

Sigrid, daughter of Bard, was stone in the face of chaos. She never broke, and she would never break. There were too many counting on her not to.

“Cider?” she asked the fair haired young one, who insisted on hovering over the other young one.

He nodded and smiled faintly at her, “Thank you, my Lady.”

“Sigrid, Master dwarf. I am no lady.”

“Well thank you, Sigrid. I am Fíli, son of Dís, at your service,” he said with a small nod.

“You are welcome, Fíli.”

Sigrid didn’t dwell on the exchange, and instead went about her duties. She made supper, cleaned the house around her guests, and ensured that Bain and Tilda were in bed at a reasonable hour.

With the fire banked and the house quiet, Sigrid allowed herself to breath. Still dressed, she curled up next to Tilda and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

She was woken the next morning by her father shortly before sunrise. Quietly she prepared breakfast, avoiding stepping on those that slept scattered across the floor. As she placed a cool hand against the burning forehead of the youngest dwarf, she bit back a scream of surprise when a large hand covered her own.

Her eyes met with the brown ones of the fair haired dwarf. He reminded her of a lion. They stared at one another for a moment before he released her to carry on. She checked the lads wound and tried to make him more comfortable. Then she returned to breakfast.

The day was a blur of action, until the dwarves were trying to elbow their way out the door.

“So this is how you repay us,” she said quietly.

The majority of the company seemed shocked, as it was the first time she had addressed them. She would not cower before the harsh glare their leader leveled her, she had faced winters of starvation, summers of plague. She was a woman of iron, and she would not bend to one dwarf. She refused.

“Go then, leave us,” she commanded.

And they left. But only because Sigrid wished them gone.

She resolved not to think of them again. When Da returned things were back to normal, and supper was on the table. She felt her life stabilizing back into a predictable misery until a knock sounded on the door.

Her night began in horror, fighting the infection of the young dwarf, Kíli, with any and every remedy she had and knew. But she was fighting a losing battle. She simply did not know enough to save the young lad’s life. 

She had never felt the earth shake as it did, but she had heard stories of a time when the ground shook and the people of Laketown feared that a dragon would soon be upon them. Da had been but a boy then.

Sigrid feared for Tilda and Bain, her younger siblings but so much like her own children. Her eyes met her father’s, and together they decided. No one would touch a hair upon either of their heads. Dragon or not, Sigrid would let nothing harm them. 

Her Da reached up and pulled the rod she had so mistaken as just a long piece of metal down from the roof. She had heard plenty of stories, she knew a black arrow when she saw it.

She tried to hide her displeasure of being left behind in favor of Bain, but when the boy returned and her father did not, she shook the answers she needed out of her brother.

The arrow was hidden, safe, in a boat at the foot of the Master’s statue. But she did not know where her father was. But that worry would have to wait. There were orcs in her house and one had Tilda and she did not stop to think, she acted. The knife she so often used to chop vegetables was buried deep in the throat of the one that tried to touch her sister.

When the short fight was over, she watched with morbid interest as the elf healed the young dwarf. 

Everything was moving so quickly and before she knew it there was a dragon to worry about as well as her missing father. She made sure of her siblings safety before piling into the boat behind them.

Fíli she was next to, as he paddled at the behest of the elf maiden. Flames roared and oddly, Sigrid was not afraid. Bain spotted him first, standing atop the bell tower and trying to bring the beast down. But no normal arrow would pierce the impenetrable hide of Smaug. She knew this, but she also knew what might be able to stop the beast.

Her decision was made quickly, and with determination she sprang from the boat, ignoring the screams of Tilda and Bain. Something stirred however, as the fearful call of Fíli followed her. She ignored everything, the pain and screams around her, and instead retrieved the arrow that Bain had hidden.

When she made it to her father, he looked distraught.

“Da!”

“Sigrid! What are you doing here?!” he screamed. “Why didn’t you leave? You were supposed to leave!”

“I came to help you,” she said with steel and her voice.

“Nothing can stop it, it’s no use,” she had never heard her father so distraught, so hopeless as he followed the dragon’s movements.

“This might,” she said, revealing the arrow and urging her father to stand up and fight.

If he did not fight for them, she would. Sigrid would die for those she loved, and surprisingly she found herself willing to fight for the funny dwarves she had only spoken to once or twice.

Her father looked at her and she felt him draw strength in her surety that he would save them, protect them.

“Sigrid, you go back. Get out of here—“

“Da! Look out!” she screamed as she tugged her father down as the dragon swept over them.

“Sigrid?!” 

“I’m fine, here take the arrow!”

He took the weapon from her and turned as she hurriedly climbed to stand on the platform of what was once the bell tower.

And then she heard the voice that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Who are you that would stand against me?” Smaug asked as his golden eye flashed in the light of his destruction.

Bard reached for his bow, only to find that it had splintered. His eyes darted between the ruined instrument and the dragon slowly moving towards them.

“Now that is a pity.” the dragon taunted. “What will you do now, bowman? You are forsaken. No help will come.”

“I am here, Da,” Sigrid whispered.

“Is that your child?” the dragon asked.

Bard instinctively moved more in front of his daughter, hiding her from the beast.

“I am not afraid,” she said evenly.

“You can not save her from the fire. She will burn,” Smaug purred.

Sigrid could always recognize the small signs of emotion that passed through her father’s face. And she witnessed the firm determination wash over him as he turned to her with apology in his eyes.

“Sigrid,” he began.

“Of course, Da,” she said before he could finish.

Her father quickly made a mock bow, with her as it’s main component. Behind her she heard the snarling of the dragon as it spoke of her death and the death of everyone in the city. But she refused to listen. Instead she looked her father squarely in the eyes with determination gleaming in her own.

“Kill him Da.”

And he did. The arrow was set free and the fletching ripped through the thin material of her dress and coat. She immediately leapt into her father’s arms and together they watched as the dragon screamed in agony. 

The tower was falling and Bard was screaming at her to move, to swim, to keep going.

She tried to forget about the rest of that night for many years to come. She tried to forget the screams and the fire. She tried to forget the corpses floating in the water. The children she saw that now drifted lifelessly in the waves.

She and her father made it to the shore sometime during the early morning. They were found by none other than the dwarf that so reminded her of a lion and his companion with the strange hat. The funny hatted dwarf heaved up her father as the lion dwarf pulled her up from the water.

She let out a small gasp as he tugged on her wound accidentally, and the dwarf immediately adjusted his approach.

Together they limped their way to their family, guarded by the elf maiden and the other two dwarves.

Sigrid held her siblings close as Bard recounted what had happened atop the bell tower to the dwarves and elf. She would never forget the look of awe that Bain bestowed on her and the absolute love in Tilda’s eyes. It reminded her for the rest of her life why she proudly bore the scar on her shoulder.

All too soon her people were moving, packing up for the ruins of Dale, as the dwarves prepared to make all haste to Erebor.

It was quietly that she said goodbye to Fíli, the goodbye of two older siblings who recognized in each other the will to do whatever was necessary to protect their younger counterparts.

But it was also quietly that Sigrid wished him luck, and equally quiet that Fíli told her that they would meet again.

She hoped he was one to keep his promises.

 

 


End file.
